Where do I stand?
by Niccolo
Summary: A Namixas gift fic for a friend of mine. AUish, a little violence [yah, about half a paragraph] and a touch of angst. At least I think so. So please R


**Disclaimer: Yes, I own a copy of both games. No, I do not own Kingdom Hearts. If I did, then the Sokai and Namixas would be more emphasised. Trust me.**

**Author's Rambles: This is a gift fic for a good friend of mine… She's apparently a big fan of Namixas.**

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_**Where do I stand?**_

_**A one-shot fanfiction for Jacqueline**_

_The heart is a funny thing. It means different things to different people; to doctors, it's an organ that is so important, people are literally dying for them. To Nobodies, hearts are an unobtainable, mystical source of power. To the populace in general, it's an esoteric object that can form bonds with other hearts._

_There are many kinds of bonds. Bonds of hatred and anger, bonds of friendship; bonds of necessity or desire; and the most important, bonds of love. Bonds of love form a powerful link between hearts and therefore the people. They bind whole countries together; they arguably bind the whole world together. If Night did not love Day, would she forever chase her golden lover around the world? _

The blonde girl strolled down the promenade that edged the cafeteria. The café, set on the edge of the soft golden sand of the beach, was a popular meeting point for young people; icecreams and drinks could be bought cheaply, there were an array of café tables to sit around and talk, and most importantly, it was only a few metres from the green-blue waters of the sea.

Such was the reason that this blonde girl was here. She was on the lookout for her friends whom she was supposed to be meeting here; two boys, both blond, yet their hair was a fair bit darker than hers; and another girl, with green eyes and chocolate-brown hair. Where were they, though? She couldn't see them anyway.

"Naminé!" one of the boys yelled from a nearby table. Naminé wove her way through the tables, forcing her way past the tourists, happy couples and other groups of friends. She slid into her seat deftly, grinning at the group.

"It took me a while to find my way here. Sorry about that," she apologised, her embarrassed cheeks a faint shade of pink.

The brown-haired girl giggled. "Don't worry about it, Naminé. We don't mind that you got lost in your hometown," she said, trying to hold in another giggle. The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Olette, stop laughing. It's not that funny!" she pouted, poking her tongue out at the slightly older girl. By this time, the two boys were smirking as well. Naminé stomped her foot under the table, putting a look of mock anger on her face. "You guys, stop being mean!"

One of the boys-Hayner-forced back a laugh. "It's just so silly though, Nammy!" he crowed, using her nickname. "You got lost in your own town!" he finally gave in to the laughter, clutching his sides. The boy to his right only smiled.

"Don't worry, Naminé. Next time, I'll come by and hold your hand so you don't get lost, okay?" he grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

The blonde turned even redder. "_Roxas!_" she insisted, albeit quietly. "Don't tease me!"

The grin vanished from Roxas' face. "I wasn't teasing though."

Naminé shook her head. By now, she was as red as a tomato. "Stop it, you guys!"

Olette shushed the group. "Okay, we've all had our fun. Shall we order now?" she asked, twisting to wave over a waiter. Naminé yelped and picked up a menu, busying herself in trying to choose a drink-or to hide her burning face. We're not too sure which.

* * *

The group sat quietly sipping their drinks, watching the sun go down. Its bottom edge had just touched the horizon, sending a road of golden light across the rippling water. Olette sighed at the sight and shifted closer to Hayner, who put an arm around her. Roxas watched them enviously out of the corner of his eye. _I wish I could do that,_ he thought with a sidelong glance at Naminé. His arm twitched involuntarily. _No, stop that! You don't even know where you stand with her yet._ Roxas pulled his thoughts back to the visual, watching the last vestiges of the Giver of Life, that shining ball of fire, disappear below the horizon, bringing the soft velvet of twilight behind it.

* * *

One by one, the street lamps flickered into life, a sign that it was time for the four to head on home. Olette and Hayner walked off hand in hand, soon disappearing into the darkness and leaving Roxas alone with Naminé. "Walk you home?" he asked after a moment, scratching the back of his head.

"Y-yeah, please do," the girl stuttered, with a wary glance at the darkened paths. Naminé was, in actual fact, scared of the dark. Few people knew this fact, her three friends among them.

Roxas walked beside her along the dim footpath, savouring the moment. Granted, they were just friends. But who really cares? He didn't. There was nobody else around; the streets were unnaturally empty at this time of night. There should have been at least one or two cars. But it felt like it was only he and Naminé, alone in the world. They slowly walked up the hill that led to her house, a small brick house set just off a small avenue shaded with huge oak trees. "So, enjoy this afternoon?" he asked, more to break the silence than anything else.

Naminé nodded. "Yeah, I did. It was great seeing you guys again after my trip." She had only recently gotten back from a week-long overseas trip with her parents. "The vacation was lovely, of course, but I missed you guys."

_You guys. See, that's where you stand. Nothing more special than her good friend. Not that it isn't a good thing,_ he thought with a humourless grin on his face.

"Roxas?" He looked at the blonde girl. She had stopped in front of her gate, a wrought iron thing that had been painted blue at some point in its life. Most of the paint had been chipped off now, exposing the slightly rusted metal underneath. "Roxas, what's the matter?" she asked, stepping closer so she could look up into his downcast face. "Are you okay?"

Roxas looked closely at her face. He'd never quite noticed just how large her eyes were, eyes that were normally filled with a spark of amusement, but now held naught but concern. He stepped back hurriedly; her presence was intoxicating, to say the least. It drove him to distraction when she stood that close. "N-No, nothing's wrong," he stammered, looking away.

Naminé put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Yes there is! Come on, you can tell me, please?" she wheedled. "You were distracted for most of this afternoon, like something was on your mind. What's the matter?"

Roxas looked back at her, a solemn look on his face. "Naminé, where do I stand?" he asked quietly.

"Wh-what? What does that mean?" she answered, confused and startled. "What do you mean, where do you stand?"

"Nothing. G'night Nammy. I'll see ya tomorrow," the boy said, walking off into the night, hands stuffed into his pockets. Naminé wanted to run after him, wanted to stop him and ask him what that strange question had meant. But her feet wouldn't move; they couldn't move. Instead, she stayed her ground, watching his back move off slowly into the gloom.

* * *

_What did he mean, 'where does he stand'? Where is he trying to stand? What's he talking about? _Naminé's thoughts just kept going round and round in her head, making less and less sense each time. It was only morning, and her mind was already tired. Finally she gave up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping off the edge and landing on the soft blue rug that was stretched out across her bedroom floor. She sighed and quickly got dressed, not really caring what she put on. Her mind was so distracted by Roxas' cryptic question that she paid no attention to anything she did for those first few minutes, not registering that she was putting on odd socks. Over her shoes. However, she did notice when the socks made walking extremely tricky as they were slipping on the floor. So she sighed again and sat down, trying to get the offending pieces of footwear off. Only she found that a little difficult, as her jersey that she had pulled on after her socks and shoes had shrunk in the last wash. Her arm was bent at a funny angle and was for some reason coming out from over her head. A minute of thinking provided the answer; her jersey had not shrunk, her head and right arm had gone through the wrong holes. You'd think she would have noticed... but no. She simply thought that the turtle-neck had come unravelled and so she had rolled the sleeve down. She groaned again and flopped down onto her bed, struggling all the while to free herself of her jersey's evil clutches. _Jeez, today is really not my day!_ She thought angrily, finally getting untangled from her jersey and getting the damned garment on correctly, followed by the widely-accepted method of wearing shoes.

Ambling her way downstairs, she absently placed two pieces of toast in the toaster, her mind still wrapped firmly around Roxas' question. A hand reached across her view and pressed the pop button on the toaster, sending the brunt pieces of bread skywards a short way. "Nammy, the conventional method is to put _bread_ in there, not toast," her mother explained, a look of amusement on her face.

Naminé blinked, looked from the toast to her mother and back again, then back to her mother. "Mum, what does it mean if someone asks where they stand?"

"What?" her mother looked slightly taken aback, not expecting such a thinker's question this early in the morning from a half-asleep Naminé. "Who asked you that?"

"Roxas, last night," Naminé replied, buttering her toast before flipping it over and getting a lump of jam to spread on it. Her mother reached over and flipped the toast back over.

"_Roxas_ asked you that? Oh dear... Tell me, what do you think of Roxas?"

Naminé took a bite of the toast. "Where'd that come from?" she said, after chewing and swallowing the bite hastily.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear..." her mother said again, shaking her head. "That doesn't really matter; so much as your answer does anyway. Well?"

"Well... He's a nice guy and a good friend."

"Is that all?" her mother asked, bending in close. "All you can tell me is that he's your friend?"

Naminé blinked again. "Y-you mean..."

"Just think about it. Think honestly, not out of sympathy for Roxas. Just honestly think on your answer, and make sure you tell him."

* * *

The blonde girl was sitting out on the rocks, as she had been for most of the day. The old man had been sitting here in the café watching her since about ten, and it was now nearly one.

The café was set away from the beach and up the hill, far enough away that teenagers didn't frequent the place. Normally they were all down at the shore-side one; why was this girl here? Just a little away from the café was a large boulder leaning on a slightly smaller one, which in turn was resting next to a huge chunk of granite. The girl had clambered up and over the moss-covered grey rocks and was perched on the top of the largest one, simply sitting there, her knees hunched up close to her face, framed by blonde tresses that appeared to be spun from golden thread. "That there is Naminé," the café owner said to the patron who had been watching the girl, an old Italian man with a thick accent and a love of good coffee. "Have ya never seen the girl before?"

"No, but why does she sit there like that all the time?" the old man asked, sipping his latte.

"I asked her meself once. I sez to her, 'why do you sit on Mocha Rock?"

"Mocha Rock?"

"Ya, I call it Mocha Rock 'cause I like to drink mocha sitting up there watching the sun rise. Anyhow, the girl answers me. A strange answer, it was. She sez 'I come up here to think.' Imagine that!" the shopkeeper exclaimed, turning away and heading for the barista machine. "Would you like anything to eat?"

The Italian watched the blonde girl a moment longer before turning back to the café owner. "Me good friend, why don't you go make yourself a coffee and come join me. Together we can think and maybe help that girl think some more, hm?"

The café owner never missed an invitation to drink coffee. "I do believe I shall join you."

* * *

As the two men were discussing their thoughts over freshly percolated coffee, Naminé was indeed up on 'Mocha Rock.' And she was indeed thinking, trying to work things out for herself. _What do I think of Roxas...? He's a nice guy and all... but I only see him as a friend, don't I?_

_**Do you? Do you really see him as only a friend?**_

_I don't know! How do you know?_

_**You don't, not really. Not until the answer is ready to be revealed.**_

_So I have to sit here, agonising like this?_

_**You already know the answer.**_

_What? No I don't!_

_**Yes you do. You just don't know it yet.**_

Naminé gave up arguing with her inner voice. It wasn't getting her anywhere. She already knew the answer to her mother's question and to Roxas', but she didn't actually know it yet? What kind of garbage was that?

* * *

The old Italian man and the café owner were still there, watching the girl think. "It's nearly dark now," the Italian said absently.

"Yah, I better shut the store," the café owner replied.

"I wonder if she solved her problem?"

"If she had, would she still be sitting there?"

* * *

Naminé glanced about. It was pitch dark now, and she had no way of seeing her way down the tricky slope of Mocha Rock. _God dammit! Look what happens when you think too much, you idiot!_ She berated herself. _Come on, I better get down. _She took off her jersey and knotted it around her waist. Her jersey had the annoying habit of hooking on the rock as she clambered up or down.

Naminé eased her way across the rocks, coming to a halt at the shallowest, easiest descent. She gulped and turned around, facing away from the open air. She kneeled down and carefully worked one foot over the edge, then the other. Her feet sought out the small cracks and crevices that made climbing a hell of a lot easier. When they were safely wedged in separate crannies, she slipped over the edge and grabbed two protrusions with her hands and then repeated the procedure, slowly but surely working her way down.

Halfway down, her foot swung left and right, but couldn't find any nook to place it in. She began to panic, not knowing what to do. A hand grabbed her foot and guided it into a crevice, where she gratefully hooked it. With her unseen help and ten harrowing minutes of time, she made it to the bottom of the four-metre-tall climb. She turned slowly to see who her help was; in front of her was an old man in a tweed jacket, a pipe jammed into his mouth and puffing out a thin tendril of curling grey smoke. "Did you solve your dilemma, little one?" he said in a thick Italian accent.

"I don't know," she said carefully. "Thank you for your help, mister," she said, bowing and running past him quickly. She'd heard stories of young girls all by themselves in the dark. And none of them ended well.

The old man shook his head and puffed his pipe. _Young people..._ he thought. _They can never see the woods for all the trees in the way._

* * *

Naminé huffed and puffed her way along, running as fast as she could in the darkness. She was nearly home... just a few hundred metres and she would be safe. Her mother was probably wondering where the hell she was. Naminé was trying to think up a cover story when hands suddenly grabbed her; one slipped across her mouth, the other wrapping across her chest from behind and pinning her arms in place. It was really all a very strange experience... the first thought to cross her mind was; _At least now I don't need to make something up._ Then the seriousness of the situation kicked in.

She tried desperately to scream, but her assaulter's gloved hands blocked the noise. When she tried to bite him, the leather didn't give beneath her sharp little teeth. She kicked and struggled for all she was worth, trying her darnedest to get out of the man's grip. His hand clenched painfully on her arm and his head bent close to her ear, a silky-soft whisper coming out. "Calm down, little girl. Do as I say and you won't get hurt."

She froze. A 'snikt' came from behind her-_A pocket knife?-_and cold steel pressed against her, just between her shoulder blades. The steel began to run down, easily parting the thin cotton of her simple white dress. It was about three inches down when it abruptly stopped, punctuated by an inarticulate roar of pain. The hand let go of her left arm at the same time, and without thinking she spun and kicked the man behind her right between the legs. As he was busy falling over-helped along by a fist-her targeted area fell directly in line with her shoe, and pretty soon he was gasping on the floor in pain. She looked up at her 'saviour,' ready to run if the newcomer figured her for an easy target.

"Easy, Nammy," Roxas said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Don't kick me there, please."

"Ro-Roxas? What are you doing here?" she asked timidly, all of a sudden very aware of his proximity. _Wh-What's this?_

"Your mum phoned me when you never came home for dinner. I'd been out looking for you for about an hour when this piece of trash," he emphasised the word with a kick to the assaulter's kidneys; "Decided to try and cut you open like a Christmas present. Are... you okay?" he asked, suddenly unsure of what to do. He shrugged his jacket off and slung it over her shoulders, covering up the conspicuous cut running down the back of her dress.

Roxas awkwardly spread his arms, not quite sure what he was doing; in answer, she collapsed against him, crying hopelessly. He simply held her there, next to the fallen, faintly sobbing man, patting her on the back and holding her tightly. "It'll be okay, Nammy. The idiot's a goner," he said reassuringly.

The man on the floor winced and tried to get up to flee; Roxas let go of Naminé for a second, bending down and grabbing the man by his hair. He glared at the whimpering face in front of him and, seemingly disgusted by what he saw, promptly slammed the heel of both of his palms into the man's temples on either side; the man collapsed. As most people do. Trust me on this one, okay?

* * *

It was the next day; Roxas had taken the scared, nearly crying Naminé back home, making sure that she physically walked through her front door before he turned for home. Her mother's thanks had been profuse, but Roxas had insisted that any good friend would have done the same.

He walked along the beach, watching the sun make a slow and leisurely beeline for the horizon, bringing Lady Night behind it. It was nearly 5 o'clock, and he should be heading home. Home to a lovely dinner, his family, a comfortable bed... But something made him stay here, something he didn't quite understand. It was almost as if his heart had grabbed his brain, shaken it roughly and told it to stay put. And threatened to cut off blood supply if he DID move. He shrugged. _Eh, I don't really care. _The important thing was he had reached a decision that he was going to implement as soon as his tyrannical heart decided to relent.

His musings were interrupted when something tickled the back of his mind; he spun about quickly, his eyes roving for what had made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. They locked almost immediately on a small, white-frocked girl with large purple eyes and long, golden-blonde tresses framing her delicate face.

He began to search for a way out, an escape route. His mind drifted back to what had happened the night before; _Holding her tightly, comforting her against me... Breathing in her scent... her presence almost demanding me to protect her fragile frame... Jeez, I gotta get out of here!_

His eyes shot left and right, searching out the best direction to run along. He couldn't go backwards; that led to the water, and he didn't feel like taking a swim. Just as he made up his mind, Naminé reached him and his eyes crossed her face on the way across to look left in preparation to run. Her violet eyes locked his blue ones in place, effectively freezing him. His legs couldn't move any more, there was no escaping it. "Na-Naminé... good to see you... are you feeling okay after last night?" he stuttered, trying to get his damned legs to move. _Cursed evil traitorous legs!_

Naminé grinned. "Yup, all thanks to you," she said brightly, completely unaware of the havoc that line played through his mind.

_Garamit, she's your FRIEND. Now move!_ he thought frantically. His legs may as well have been set in cement for all the good they were doing him. "Tha-that's good..."

"Oh Roxas, stop it!" she yelled, stamping her foot down. "You've been jittery all day! Just calm down so we can talk like two normal people!"

The words had an instant effect. His inner brain crowed over its defeat of the heart, who could no longer threaten it. The legs suddenly decided to move again, but Roxas held them in place. "Oookay?" he said slowly, a little worried. Naminé had never been like this.

"Roxas... do you remember what you asked me, a couple of nights ago?" she asked, once again in that strange timid voice which he had only heard from her once before.

"Uh... about that..." a twinge of warning began to poke its way through his brain.

"Can I please answer that question now?" she asked, scuffing her foot against the sand.

Roxas waved a hand. "Can I go first?" she nodded, her lips buttoning shut against her next words. "I-I've decided that... my place is beside you, protecting you. That's my own answer to my question."

"But, but, I don't want you beside me!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide and filling with tears. Roxas grimaced. _Ouch._ "I want you _with_ me!"

Roxas' face lit up in sudden comprehension, his mouth widening into a smile. "Re-really?"

She nodded, the tears streaming down her face, framing the smile that was now gracing her lips. "Please?"

Roxas took a step forwards and his arms slipped around her, the small girl's slender frame trapped within the protective embrace of his arms.

"Always."

_The heart is indeed a strange being. Those who follow their hearts shall always find the answers they seek, for their heart will follow the bonds it has formed with others._

_The bond of friendship is but one kind of love; friends, family, lovers... all are an example of the myriad kinds of love. Some bonds are peaceful, others out of necessity. Some forms of love burn with hidden passion, while others glow brightly with simple brotherly love._

_But each form of love differs in one key thing, the one thing that can confuse any person exploring their feelings; where the other end of the bond, the heart on the other side, stands in relation to you._

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**Author's Rambles: Hmm, this story took me a looooong time to write.**

**Jackie, I hope it's the kind of thing you were after. To my other readers, I hope you liked it enough to want to review so you can tell me where to improve.**

**Adios, my lovely audience!**


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